


Dead Relatives Club

by koanju (verstehen)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:13:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verstehen/pseuds/koanju
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you ever wonder if we're caught in the Matrix and werewolves are just the machines' way of making us miserable so we don't know we're actually providing them fuel?" Stiles asked at the first meeting of the Dead Relatives Club. It wasn't really an actual club and he'd totally never call it that aloud (if only because if he did then Derek Hale would probably want an invite to the cool kids table). </p>
<p>Allison, the other founding member, gave him a faint smile and lifted her straw out of her milkshake to watch the ice cream slowly drip down and back into the glass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Relatives Club

"Do you ever wonder if we're caught in the Matrix and werewolves are just the machines' way of making us miserable so we don't know we're actually providing them fuel?" Stiles asked at the first meeting of the Dead Relatives Club. It wasn't really an actual club and he'd totally never call it that aloud (if only because if he did then Derek Hale would probably want an invite to the cool kids table). 

Allison, the other founding member, gave him a faint smile and lifted her straw out of her milkshake to watch the ice cream slowly drip down and back into the glass. 

 

Stiles had shown up at the Argent home a half hour ago in a fit of insanity inspired by the way he didn't want to look at himself in the mirror anymore and see the fading bruises Gerald Argent had left behind on his chest (it was one thing to realize how distinct an impression a shoe could make on a body from crime scene photos and cop shows but it was another thing entirely to feel it and see it on himself). Also, the way he really didn't want to see the sad eyes and distracted expression on Scott's face when they Skyped in the evenings anymore. Because Skyping was basically all he was doing with Scott right now while his best friend's attention was caught up in giving How Not To Be A Dick Werewolf Like Derek lessons to Isaac. And it was cool, Stiles got it. They'd bonded the night everything went to shit and Scott was allowed to have friends that weren't Stiles (just like Stiles had friends of his own... that he'd totally been neglecting the last year, no wonder Harley wasn't returning his phone calls, damnit) but he was just so damn  _bored._

And a bored Stiles was a clinically insane Stiles. Exhibit A: going to find a body in the woods one night like it was the 1950s and he was a character in Stephen King's The Body. Which totally should have clued him in because he was a goddamn horror fan and even if that novella hadn't been horror like the rest of King's stuff terrible shit happened to the characters. 

Exhibit B: knocking on the Argents' door at three in the afternoon, physically pushing his way past Chris Argent -- the man with a thousand guns who had threatened Stiles before -- so he could drag Allison out of the house and to a diner for a late lunch and the inaugural meeting of the Dead Relatives Club. 

He'd almost given up the whole ridiculous idea the instant he'd seen Allison sitting on her bed, school books in front of her, dressed in a pair of black jeans and t-shirt. Even with the pale, tired expression on her face, seeing her like that had brought it all back, the fear and the terror of that night in the station as it descended even more into chaos when Allison and the hunters showed up and how scared he was he'd end up an orphan because his dad was caught up in the crossfire. Or worse, that Stiles, unable to move would end up dead and his --

His dad wouldn't be able to survive it. Not another loss, no matter how rocky their relationship had been recently. He'd just waste away. 

So seeing her there, dressed in the same damn type of clothes, he wanted to hate her. 

But the image also reminded him of the year he'd spent wearing black of his own, only stopping (or at least hiding the piece of clothing better) because of the expression of pain on his dad's face every time he saw Stiles dressed that way. So he'd shut Allison's book, pulled her off the bed and down the stairs past her confused looking father and to his Jeep. 

"Maybe," Allison said. "But it doesn't seem likely; you're mixing genres." 

He had to grin at that and she even made an effort at a weak smile back. "Yeah, but isn't that kind of the point? If you're going to go with ridiculous go with really ridiculous. No one expects the Spanish Inquisition." 

"Why are we here, Stiles?"

"In the existiential sense?" He shrugged. "I don't know, depends on which whackjob philosopher or religious figure you believe. Personally I think it's just 42." 

She snorted and shook her head finally deigning to drink some of the vanilla shake she'd ordered. He even offered to pay. "No, I mean here. In the diner." She gave him a hard look. "Are you here for Scott?" 

He scowled at her. "Allison, Scott can take care of his own romantic life. I'm done playing Cupid for the two of you. The only romances I'm participating in from now on are my own." 

She perked up at that and leaned forward, reminding Stiles of the girl she used to be. Before all the werewolf crap. "Does that mean you're in one?"

"No, my hypothetical romances. Of which I plan on having many, with a wide variety of funny, smart, awesome people. Or Lydia. I'd take that too." He paused and just stared at her, dipping a fry into some ketchup. "I just thought you might need a friend. I was feeling like I needed one too."

Allison's shoulders slumped a little but the smile she gave him was real. "So tell me about your game," she said. "Still fighting mythical monsters?" 

"Nah, that lost its appeal around the time they released the panda update," he said. "I moved on to a Star Wars game. Less... bad memories. And racism. Less racism, that's always a good thing." 

"Maybe you could show me how to play?" 

"Yeah," he agreed and smiled easily at her, relaxing. "It's pretty easy." 

Maybe the Dead Relatives Club wasn't such a crazy idea after all. 


End file.
